Evil Angel
by PinkWhirlWind
Summary: after the last ep... Jet and Faye are summoned to pick up some remains.. or make a deal to keep someone alive
1. Default Chapter

Evil Angel By Nix  
  
Disclaimers. I do not own Cowboy Bebop and I wrote this just for fun  
  
Warnings. I'm a pro-survival person myself. So this is set after the twenty- sixth ep.. if you don't want to be at all spoiled for the end of the series.. I suggest not reading this. And Julia is.. well, not an angel in this story, at least not the good kind.. she's more complicated here. There may well end up being some yaoi, and maybe even a Jet/Spike/Faye trio pairing. *thinks* I think that's all I need to warn about.  
  
Evil Angel ~ Prologue  
  
There was a moment. It didn't hurt. One step, his hand holding the gun, another step and he looked down. Red, all down the front, wet down his leg, distant and warm, but it didn't hurt. He was relieved, in some distant way. One star fell from the sky. Vicious died. Spike looked up from where he still stood and blinked slowly. The past played out in one eye, where he'd hidden Julia, Annie's death, lying to Jet, the shots that Faye had fired. One hand touched the opening in his suit, ruined suit. The odd feeling of skin not connected to other skin, sort of like a very thin hunk of meat. Dying. Another star twinkled in the sky still as he fell forward. The fall traced through the air for him, so slowly, and he knew absolutely. He didn't want to die.  
  
The world lost color anyway, and he found the stairs a soft bed. Like sleep slipping over him, as if this were just a nap, he found himself listening for the comforting sounds that tarnished the inside of the Bebop, Faye's complaining, her card playing, the slight hydraulic sound of Jet's arm, even Ed's typing, these were the comforting sounds his fading mind sought. Home. He wanted to go home, not to heaven now that his honor was clean, but home. He let out a slow breath, moist and warm, blood from his sliced abdomen having crept up into a nick in one lung perhaps, now to slip over lips that he couldn't feel anymore.  
  
"Oh Spike," Julia's voice whispered, "Oh Spike. You were supposed to be faster than he was."  
  
"Julia." The single word came out too mangled, his mouth too full and wet, head too light. "Julia, we are together."  
  
"We were together, yes," she said, gentle fingers brushing dark green hair away from his face. "You have done so well, my knight, but I will not be your nurse this time."  
  
His eyes focused again, or maybe it was just that he opened them, to find himself staring at boots, black and polished, with red dragons starting at the toes and curling back up around perfect female legs. Julia, but. not Julia. "Hurry," she said, in her voice, the voice he remembered, but with nothing even slightly vulnerable or soft in it. It was the voice of the Red Dragon's evil angel. "Do not let him die." 


	2. one

Evil Angel 2/? By Nix  
  
Warnings. I'm a pro-survival person myself. So this is set after the twenty- sixth ep.. if you don't want to be at all spoiled for the end of the series.. I suggest not reading this. And Julia is.. well, not an angel in this story, at least not the good kind.. she's more complicated here. There may well end up being some yaoi, and maybe even a Jet/Spike/Faye trio pairing. *thinks* I think that's all I need to warn about. Samples of my original stuff is at: www.onepinkrose.com  
  
Evil Angel 2/?  
  
It wasn't the beer that Spike had had in the bottom of the fridge that one time, but it was almost just as good. Jet closed his eyes and took another drink. It tasted weak, some golden beer, not the dark that he would have picked for himself, but this golden tea shade of beer that Spike liked. Spike. Half a case of weak beer gone and Jet couldn't admit to himself that the towel wearing martial artist wasn't coming back. It only made sense though, that he'd come back.  
  
Jet couldn't count how many times he'd patched the man up, his partner. Once he'd slept next to him, right after he'd found Spike below the broken church window. He'd lifted him then, from the bloody pavement, and even unconscious, even limp in places that bones usually prevented that, there had been a life force in the man, a will to live that kept breath moving in and out, tickling at Jet's throat as he carried him.  
  
Now, Jet thought, starting on another beer, that maybe part of that will to live had been this woman, this Julia and that brought a feeling that Jet knew, but refused to name. Acid in his stomach, crushing beer can, and Jet wondered again just who he was, what kind of man he was to feel jealousy over a woman who was already dead. Spike said she was dead. And more than jealousy, like a river of grief, Jet realized that might cost Spike his life too. Spike's death would leave a hole, he realized now, now when it was too late to make a fool of himself like Faye had, too late to threaten to shoot the reckless man. There wasn't even anyone he could promise to kill, to take vengeance on, because he had no doubt that Spike would have already killed all the right ones.  
  
"Jet." Faye's voice entered the river of his grief softly, more like the little girl on the video tape than the jaded gambler woman. "Jet."  
  
"What do you want," he demanded, resenting the call back from the emotional numbness he was seeking, and compensated by offering her one of his beers. "Shut up and get drunk with me."  
  
"Should we send Ed an email? She cared about him too, you know." The beer left Jet's hand and he was happy to hear it opening.  
  
"He's coming back," he said, swallowing half a can, just swallowing mouthful after mouthful, thinking he didn't have to listen, respond while his mouth was full. Spike was coming back. He'd ask for something to eat, and Jet would get up and make his favorite, he'd watch him eat again, just turn back the clock and watch food disappear into that lean body. He'd tell him, tell him that Jet would be his woman, would give him anything, just don't go, stay. "I just wanted him to stay. If he comes back, if he comes back I'll do anything he wants."  
  
Soft fingers touched his cheek, and only then did he realize that he was crying. They weren't the innocent fingers of the last woman who'd touched him, the childlike fingers of the woman who'd left him. They were the fingers of a woman who was swimming in the same river of grief, who made her own choices and didn't back away from asking for what she wanted. "Jet, let's go find him. Let's go help."  
  
"It isn't that easy," Jet said before throwing the beer can across the living area. "This isn't some package I can pay postage for or some cop I can pay compensation to because Spike broke some bones by. The Red Dragon Syndicate runs Mars, has the cops here in their pockets and Spike has gone to kill Vicious."  
  
"Vicious deserves it."  
  
"What difference does that make? That woman Spike loved is dead." Jet decided he needed something stronger than beer now. He'd never really thought of himself a gay, not that there was anything wrong with it, but to be wanting a guy who was his friend and only to figure it out after the friend was probably dead, that was just stupid. He'd just never thought beyond being in love with Her, his Ganymede woman. "Faye, what if I'm jealous of her, of Spike's woman? What if I'm jealous of this woman that Spike thought about all the time? What if I'm thinking about taking Spike to bed, running my good hand over that lean body of his? Laying my hand on his chest while he's sleeping, just to be sure that he's breathing? What if I want to give him a reason to be alive, but I want that reason to be me? What do you say to that?" Jet didn't have the nerve to look at this girl, Faye. For some reason he was seeing her as she was on that tape, all cheerful and innocent, and he felt old and dirty, as he scrounged in a cabinet for his hidden brandy.  
  
"What if? Spike's beautiful and he's kind, not that he wants a person to think he is. He's got a great voice. You ever listen to him, just close your eyes and listen to him? I'm jealous of her too, Jet. Hell, sometimes I'm jealous of you because Spike treats you as a friend. She was very beautiful though, beautiful and sleek, just the kind of woman I'd see with Spike. I wonder why they weren't together all this time. Jet, what if I'm in love with Spike? What if," she paused, and they looked into each other's eyes, as if seeing each other for the first time, really seeing each other as people, people with things in common, "What if I've got real bad luck and I lost my heart to him and I ain't never going to love anyone else again?"  
  
"Well, here," Jet took a big swig of his brandy, then held the bottle out to her. "Get drunk with me then. Cuz I guess we're both in love with a dead guy."  
  
"He can't really be dead, Jet. He fell out of that window. He's been shot before. Jet, Spike can't be dead."  
  
The vid-phone/computer started ringing then, and they both looked at it, and pounced, Jet nearly falling as he went over the couch. Faye smacked the enter key, accepting the call and Spike's name was on her lips, but it was Ed, an Ed that looked only just a little older, as if she'd had some bad shock, eyes red, hair limp. "Faye-Faye! Ed had a bad call! Someone sent Ed bad photos! Where is Spike-person!?"  
  
Only then did Faye take a solid drink of the brandy, leaving Jet to respond. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to straighten up a little, and thanking all the gods that he hadn't tried on any lipstick. "Spike's not here right now, Ed. What kind of photo did you get?"  
  
The photo turned out to be a video clip. Vicious' katana sliced through Spike's middle, disemboweling through suit and skin. Spike stepped back, turned, fell. Faye screamed, dropped the brandy. Jet cursed her, and grabbed the spilling bottle back up from the floor. Ed came back on the screen. "Bad photo! Where is Spike person!?"  
  
Faye sniffed, "We don't know right now, Ed. He went to fight Vicious. Where did you get that video clip?"  
  
"Ein says we need to come help you," Ed said, looking every bit like a nearly hysterical fourteen year old. "You should look in your email. I had to hack the bebop to turn it on to make you hear this. Is the ship broken? Why was it sleeping? I think you got the same email. It said we were supposed to come and pick up Spike-person's body. Why does he need an extra body, and why can't he bring it home himself?"  
  
The obvious was sometimes too painful to look directly at. Jet slumped back on the couch and started in on the rest of the brandy. Faye sniffed again, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "Let me look at that email now, but Ed, you should stay on Earth. It's not so safe here right now."  
  
"Ed is not on Earth," the girl said, reaching down to touch something. Ein barked off screen. "Ed and Ein are on Mars. Someone named Julia told us two weeks ago that Spike Person would need our help. Spike needs Bebop."  
  
"Oh Ed." Faye said, reaching to touch the screen. "Why didn't you tell us you were on Mars?"  
  
"Bebop didn't answer Ed! Ed tried to call Bebop."  
  
"Ed, come home," Jet called, words slurring finally. "Come home."  
  
zzZZzz  
  
In an undamaged Red Dragon building, Julia stood near a damage proof window, watching the twinkling night that was Mars City, a light that eclipsed the stars themselves from where she stood. There are many errors that one can make when seizing power. One is to misjudge who the power seekers are, to underestimate a ruthless opponent. Another is to learn to love one's tools.  
  
She had watched Spike fall, and she discovered within herself that her lie had become truth. Ambition met it's only true rival, love. The feeling stormed her by surprise. She'd watched Vicious fall first. Watched with a sense of justice and rightness. He'd been her lover first, before Spike. Violent, demanding, passionate, she'd dreamed of watching him fall even when she was laying in his bed.  
  
When Spike fell, and she knew that the poison on Vicious' katana would be killing him, she knew it was balanced, fate, was a beautiful death, but as she watched Spike fall, she remembered being in his bed as well, remembered how his powerful hands had been gentle, how his kisses had been awkward and genuine, tender and childlike in some ways. His death was beautiful, artistic, the masterstroke of her plan, that the rivals should kill each other, end of story. Human hearts are never quite so artistic. Spike, who had known he'd lose his life, had chosen this path, she told herself as she watched him fall, his body limp against the stairs and she wanted, in that moment, she wanted his life back for him, wanted it more than she wanted to rule Mars, more than the new order that she'd been breed for.  
  
Spike Spiegel, from the ghettos of Mars City to the heights of the Red Dragon Syndicate, and she thought, as she stood there trying to savor her victory, that he was an angel that never really fell. A knight betrayed by his lady, and she wished to change his story, even though she herself was the one who'd put the poison on the edge of Vicious' katana, or ordered it put there. There was little point in holding power, if one could not change one's mind.  
  
The door to her private apartment chimed and she touched the sensor on her bracelet which would open the door. "Mistress," the Chinese doctor bowed, red tipped black hair brushing her cheeks. "The patient's body has accepted the antidote, but he is too weak to begin the reconstruction of the small intestine. Is it your wish that we attempt conventional reconstruction, inform you of his passing, or attempt nanite reconstruction?"  
  
"Probability of full recovery with conventional vs nanite?" Now her voice was regal, imperious, untouched by the fragility of human life.  
  
"Low probability with conventional reconstruction. The damage done by the poison was difficult to halt and would likely suggest the need for a colostomy. With nanite, probability is 95%, however the process should be expected to take nearly eight weeks and the patient should probably be sedated during the process due to the nature of nerves in the tissue that will be regrown in that area of the body."  
  
"He has a high pain tolerance," she said, not so regal, more like the woman Spike thought he'd known. "Use whatever technology will encourage a positive outcome. Do not consider cost."  
  
"Is that wise, Mistress?"  
  
"After you complete this surgery, you will send me a finger of yours, your choice which, as an offering of your obedience to me."  
  
The doctor bowed, very low, "Yes, Mistress."  
  
Julia did not breathe until the door sealed again. Realizing how she felt about Spike was leading her to the most difficult and painful thing she would probably ever do. He would live, but she would have to give him to others to love. The lady or the tiger, an old story from school, now, now she knew which door she'd choose for her love. She touched her bracelet again, this time to open a com-channel. "When the Bebop arrives, take them to the operating theater."  
  
"Yes, Mistress," a male voice responded. "All the parts for the requested repairs are here. Did you decide about the Swordfish II? What do you wish me to do with it?"  
  
"Repair it," she said, then paused to make sure that her voice wouldn't break, "Put it on the Bebop, but restore it completely, rearm it, do any upgrades that you can. Make it the best ship that you can."  
  
"Yes, Mistress."  
  
The lady or the tiger; it wasn't really that hard of a choice. 


	3. The Lady or the Tiger

Evil Angel 2/?  
  
Disclaimers: I don't own Cowboy Bebop.. but I do kinda enjoy writing this story.  
  
Warnings. I'm a pro-survival person myself. So this is set after the twenty- sixth ep.. if you don't want to be at all spoiled for the end of the series.. I suggest not reading this. And Julia is.. well, not an angel in this story, at least not the good kind.. she's more complicated here. There may well end up being some yaoi, and maybe even a Jet/Spike/Faye trio pairing. *thinks* I think that's all I need to warn about. Samples of my original stuff is at: www.onepinkrose.com (there is a yaoi themed romance novel there, just in case *smiles*)  
  
Evil Angel 2/?  
  
It didn't feel like the best thing to be doing with a hang over, taking the Bebop to an unmapped bio-dome on Mars, which they knew very well was a Red Dragon private reserve. The invitation had come less than twenty-four hours after Spike had left the Bebop, right after Ed and Ein had gotten back. Her ship seemed too loud by far considering the hangovers that had both Jet and Faye feeling like their heads had been closed off in a spacegate. The invitation hadn't taken anymore care for their headaches than Ed's questions had. It demanded they come immediately to the Martian coordinates given, to arrive immediately, but it promised they'd have Spike back, hinted that how soon they arrived would have an impact on how alive he would be when they got there.  
  
Faye held a glass between to stocking covered knees and aimed the egg at the edge again. Last time, she'd missed and it her leg, not hard enough to break the egg either, but eggs were a slightly rare commodity.  
  
"Faye Faye," Ed said cheerfully enough to make Faye's head hope that someone would blow it off, "Let Edward crack the egg! Okay?"  
  
"Let her," Jet growled.  
  
Faye rolled her eyes and held out the glass and egg. "Here! My head doesn't hurt anyway."  
  
Ed took the glass and egg, remembering her father and not feeling nearly as cheerful as Faye thought she was. She knew there were things that adults knew that she didn't, but she felt older than she had when she'd gone off to look for her father and left the Bebop, understood now that family was more than blood, that where one belonged had to do with some other thing called a heart. She also knew what her friend Mpu had told her about this place, so she knew things the adults maybe didn't. She cracked the egg easily, and balanced the egg filled glass on her head for a moment, carrying it to Faye with both arms out like a plane. Maybe she'd never understand why people did things they did. "Needs pepper!"  
  
Faye grabbed the glass just as it started to slip. "Idiot," she complained, "Don't you know how serious this is?" But holding glass, staring at the raw egg, she was wishing she had pepper, something.  
  
"Edward knows this is serious," the girl caught up another egg and made a Spike hang over cure for Jet too, without the separating of white and yolk, without the pepper or chili sauce, so it wasn't really the same, but then none of them had seen Spike hung over that often. "Edward knows that Spike- person might die and Edward knows *her* head doesn't hurt."  
  
"She's got us there," Jet acknowledged. "We stay calm. We give them what they want, get Spike, get out."  
  
"Get Spike, get Spike!"  
  
"Jet?"  
  
Jet took the glass Ed was offering, then rubbed Faye's knee with the back of his hand. Ed tilted her head and seemed to think about that for a moment. Faye-Faye and Jet-person were ... Were being real nice to each other.  
  
"Faye," Jet said, glaring at the glass, swirled the egg around, and Faye thought maybe his sideburns twitched. Then he shot the egg back, toasting to Spike, even if it wasn't going to cure his hangover.  
  
"Shit, Jet." She hadn't flinched away from his touch, Edward noticed. "Let's just get in there, get out. I want Spike a live so I can kill him myself!"  
  
They didn't notice she noticed though, as she was now walking back and forth on her hands, toes wiggling in the air, she didn't expect them to notice that she'd seen the change in them. "Go get Spike now!"  
  
Faye turned from watching Jet pilot the Bebop to where Ed was still walking around on her hands. "Jet," Faye made a face, one eyebrow drawing down.  
  
"The kid will be fine," he said, transmitting to the biodome's tower for permission to land. He thought it, but didn't add, that Ed could take care of herself better than Faye sometimes.  
  
"Ed will be fine," Ed said, but she was playing up for them, acting silly on purpose. They would not notice what she was up to, not notice her own plans. The goggles on her head pulsed, letting her know that Mpu was impatient to have her attention again. The young, especially the brilliant young, always believe they can do anything.  
  
zzZZzz  
  
The main operating theater in Little Beijing served many purposes, some of which required an audience. This procedure had an audience of one at the moment, just one beautiful blond woman. It had taken nearly half an hour from the end of the fight to move Spike into stasis. Those had been moments of reorganization for Julia. Once he was into stasis it had taken another three hours to gently transport him around the world, to Little Beijing. The initial exam and assessment had taken another hour and a half and by then she was sure of what she wanted to do. The video clip and invitations had gone out to both the Bebop and Edward's computer. The mission to save Spike's life was still in progress when the door to the balcony theater opened and her half-willing guests were ushered in.  
  
She barely turned away from the man in the center of the medical team below, but surveyed his friends even still. The woman, her lady behind the door, not beautiful, but stunning none the less. It seemed nearly obscene to Julia that this woman should arrive wearing one of Spike's jackets, move to the glass keeping the operating area sterile, and press her palms against the smooth surface. The color drained from that, perhaps more beautiful than Julia had thought, face. There was not a cowboy, or gambler, but a woman with a young heart.  
  
Julia hated her suddenly, hated her with the effective articulate hate of a bred aristocrat. Faye was clumsy, foolish, but she was also all the things that Julia had pretended to be to steal Spike's heart and soul. Standing beside each other, they both stared down at Spike. He lay, arms out to either side, bound to supports and supporting several lines in. A respirator was taped firmly between his lips, a suction line down his nose, hair sweaty and pasted to his pale face. Only yellow disinfectant wash covered his body, blue covered trays around the opening in his abdomen, and a doctor on either side, working directly with parts of his body that were never ever meant to be exposed to light, bright artificial or not. "Oh Spike!" Faye yelled, angry, frustrated, desperate to make something put things right. "Spike."  
  
"He is unconscious," Julia said, drippingly condescending, as if she were speaking to a hated young relative. "Do you know how much effort and expense it has taken to repair this disemboweled man?"  
  
Jet snorted, or gagged, the side of one fist pressing against his chest, as if he could settle some emotion, sensation by just pushing it down, and this drew Julia's attention to him. So tall and broad, tall and dark, a storybook sheriff with black hair and a soul that was a white hat beyond doubt. It was the look in those eyes though, eyes that studied Spike's defenseless body with a knowing compassion, an indomitable protectiveness that went beyond family, into a kind of love that Julia didn't think she even wanted to understand. Jet loved Spike more than he loved himself. It made her feel smaller, somehow. "He is a peasant," she said, turning her back on the unconditional longing in the big man. "On the streets of Mars City he could have been nothing more than a boy-whore. Didn't you arrest a few of those when you were a police officer, Mr. Black."  
  
"Not Spike," Jet said, the side of his face twitching, and Julia knew she'd struck him deeply. "How can you talk about him like that? He loves you."  
  
"Oh yes, I see," she said, using a mannerism picked up in the early part of her grand plan, as she brushed golden blond hair back from her face before turning to smile at Jet, so sweet and innocent, the smile of a safe angel. This smile held, perfect and guiltless for a moment, then darkened, one eyebrow arching. "My name is Julia Sung Sai. My family's blood has roots in the Sung Dynasty. We survived and even flourished in the People's Republic, and my ancestors' blood cemented this Syndicate before here was a Mars City. My grandfather died in the last purge and I have purged those who turned against him. " She turned back to watch her doctors, watch them heal the only person she'd ever truly cared about, as she tried to pretend that all that made her heart human wasn't breaking apart like forgotten imperial pottery. "It is only by my sufferance that this peasant breaths, so be aware of your words."  
  
A red light blinked just a fraction of a breath before a warning beep sounded. The medical team scurried, the lead doctor looking even paler as she grabbed a long syringe from the stand of tools next to her, broke the protective cover from the needle and jammed it straight into Spike's chest, shoving the plunger down, the slight blue fluid into his body, which arched against the restraints holding him.  
  
They stood there, all four of them, pressed to the glass, Chinese princess and peasants and there wasn't any real difference between any of them, until the monitor that showed Spike's heart beat slowly started again. The doctor signaled for new gloves and an aide removed the bloody gloves, uses a sterile wipe to dry her hands, then put new gloves on. She went back to work on the opening in Spike's belly and Faye thought that maybe it looked like she was going to close him now.  
  
"Are they going to finish now?" She asked, turning to look at Julia, and their eyes locked. Julia was taller than she, and so Faye was looking up just a little. The Imperial facade had cracked and tears trailed down that beautiful face. "You love him too."  
  
"Shut up," Julia said, crude, more the woman who'd posed as someone else for so many years. "Just shut up. Do you know the story of the lady or the tiger?"  
  
Edward slipped her goggles off, and shoved them into her pocket before responding, no one really saw, or paid any attention to her, or the very small computer in the pocket of her coat. "Edward knows the story! Are you the princess then? Will you give Spike to the tiger or the lady? I don't think Spike can fight a tiger right now!"  
  
"A tiger?" Faye's eyes were wide, her fists doubled, "What tiger?"  
  
Julia laughed then, a sweet musical laugh of a voice trained to be beautiful. "I was rather thinking that I would chose the door with the lady, or rather, the man and the woman. It is decreed that Spike Spiegel has to die."  
  
Jet nearly snarled and somehow, half way done with this, Julia felt comforted by their protectiveness of him, and slightly satisfied by how irritating they were. "Understand me, I do not want him dead. I want to give him his life, but he is a powerful figure in this organization. He has many followers who would fight for him, even four years after he faked his own death, they would rally to him. I cannot allow opposition. This will be the new Sung dynasty and a low born peasant from the streets of Mars City is not allowed to be a threat."  
  
Jet felt a fatalistic cloud press down on him. It wasn't always possible to really get away from the past. "Just give him to us. We'll go out to the asteroid belt, become miners. You ain't never going to see us again."  
  
"I was rather hoping you might feel that way. Spike must never come back to Mars or Earth, not Venus, he must disappear. I am going to make him disappear."  
  
"Please," Faye said, knowing it would be hopeless, but unable to really stop herself. "Don't hurt him."  
  
Julia's laugh sounded a little hysterical, perhaps. "I intend to free him from pain, and you each may have a reward for your service. Mr. Black, the Bebop is being refitted as we speak, your records changed. You never left the ISSP. You never worked with Spike Spiegel. You are now on a highly classified mission for the ISSP, in the outer asteroid belts. You will continue to hunt bounties, just as you please, you will be the sheriff of the asteroids. I can have a little silver star made for you, if you want."  
  
Jet's glare was priceless to Julia, just priceless. "I don't work for the ISSP."  
  
"No. You work for the Red Dragon Syndicate. Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Black?" She asked and looked meaningfully back at Spike, noting the bruising around his chest, where the injection had been given.  
  
"No," Jet ground out.  
  
"And you, Miss Valentine," Julia said, taking great pleasure in being the Wizard of Oz and handing out unwanted gifts to those who saw behind the veil, "Your family was not quite without value. As the sole survivor of your line, I have arranged for assets held by the government to be transferred to you. This has liquidated your debts as well as allowing for a moderate income. You will no longer gamble with money, for your assets are meant to support more than yourself." It wasn't necessary to add a threat. The threat was implied and worse that could probably be verbalized in any case.  
  
"What about me? Are you going to threaten me too?" Edward asked, face pressed to the glass now, as she watched what they did with Spike.  
  
Now, Edward was a bit of a loss to Julia. Assets were not meant to be wasted. When she'd signaled the girl, she'd meant to bring her into the Red Dragon, to tell her that Julia had loved Spike, and now Ed needed to help protect Julia, to study and grow stronger in computer skills, to avenge Spike, Faye, and Jet's deaths. Now, she would have to let the little hacker go with them. Julia hated to waste real talent. "I have no threats for you, Edward. Of all, I respect you the most. I wish only to give you a new computer, to supply you with all the tools you'll need to study what you love. All I ask is that you take good care of Spike for me." Julia leaned over a bit to look right in Edward's eyes and smiled tentatively, as if asking for Edward's approval.  
  
Edward's eyes went wide, blinking in surprise. "Edward is grateful and will take good good care of Spike-person!"  
  
"That is all I ask," Julia said, wondering if Faye were throwing daggers at her back. A little dissent in the ranks was always good for control. "What do you think, Edward-san? Do you think Spike loves Jet or Faye?"  
  
Edward tilted her head, one finger tapping against her cheek. "Edward thinks that Spike likes them both and wouldn't want to make either unhappy."  
  
"Really?" That was news to Julia, that Spike might actually be attracted to either of these peasants. The image of him waking up in Jet's strong arms burned like an acid down her soul. Spike liked men as well as women, she knew that well from who she'd had to seduce him away from at the start. Which would be the top, Spike or Jet, she wondered and found herself grinding her teeth. It was one thing to give her lover to the lady, another for him to like it. What was the point of power, if you couldn't change your mind? 


	4. the man in the bed

Evil Angel 3/? By Nix  
  
Disclaimers. I do not own Cowboy Bebop and I wrote this just for fun  
  
Warnings. I'm a pro-survival person myself. So this is set after the twenty- sixth ep.. if you don't want to be at all spoiled for the end of the series.. I suggest not reading this. And Julia is.. well, not an angel in this story, at least not the good kind.. she's more complicated here. There may well end up being some yaoi, and maybe even a Jet/Spike/Faye trio pairing. *thinks* I think that's all I need to warn about. Samples of my stuff is at: www.onepinkrose.com  
  
Evil Angel 3  
  
It was another ten hours until they let them visit him and then they had to wear sterile gear and be scrubbed through a decontamination cycle. Faye was pretty sure her hair would never be the same and was half afraid she'd scare Spike to death. Feeling completely self conscious, she padded her way into his room, feet covered in blue sterile booties, the only sound was her breathing, the soft sounds she made as she surveyed him.  
  
He wore a disposable blue gown, a thin white sheet, bruising around his lips where he might have fought against the ventilator, sticky from the tape across his cheeks. She sat down on the stool next to his bed and slipped her fingers under his limp hand. "You're really stupid, you know? Why'd you go do this?"  
  
His fingers curled around hers, very lightly and she held his tightly. "Don't you understand? People get to be comrades, family and care about you! You can't just go off and get yourself killed."  
  
Spike moaned softly, face turning against the pillow, as if he were trying to get the nasal canula out of his nose.  
  
"No, no," Faye said, fingers gently touching his cheek. "You need that for a bit longer, Spike, makes sure you get enough oxygen into your lungs. Just a little longer, until it heals, okay."  
  
"Okay," he whispered, his voice low and confused.  
  
Jet came in then too, having taken just a little longer with his cybernetic arm in the decontamination cycle. They hydraulics in his elbow were still straining and groaning in high pitched metal on metal sounds when he came in. Faye glared at him, but he glared back and crossed to the other side of Spike's bed. "There! I knew you'd be okay, Spike." Cheerful, a bit forced, but cheerful, Jet sat down on the other stool which was almost too small for him and took Spike's other hand. He wasn't going to get out of the way just because Faye was female. He'd known Spike longer and had invested more in him anyway. "Spike, you awake?"  
  
The man in the bed let his eyes open then, fighting against them, the fluttering of them as they refused to open. Both voices sounded... familiar. He licked bruised lips and took a slow breath, exploring the soreness in his abdomen, scratching burning in his lungs. One eye was clearly golden now, the other a dark brown almost amber color. Both eyes quickly scanned down the man next to him, muscular, strong, gentle, beautiful black hair, nice smile, the man in the bed decided he liked this one, hoped he'd remember that they were lovers, maybe. He felt his lips smiling and aching from the small movement.  
  
"Spike!" Faye cheered, bouncing up from the stool, then leaning close to kiss the back of his hand. "You're awake!"  
  
It was an effort, took too much energy, but he turned his head to find a beautiful woman, also with dark hair, beautiful eyes, a smile like sunlight over the ocean, suggesting depth and emotion, and history between them that he couldn't remember. Why did they keep saying 'spike'? Maybe it was some kind of sports term, he thought. "I'm awake," he agreed, finding it almost too much work to draw in that much breath. "Where am I?"  
  
"We're in Little Beijing. We can leave as soon as they're done with the Bebop and you're okay to travel. How do you feel?"  
  
"Gutted," he said, not realizing how very close that was to the truth. He realized that they recognized him, expected him to recognize them. Maybe they were all three lovers? That kind of felt right? He carefully looked from one to the other. No names came to mind, no information at all, other than that he cared about them both, didn't want to disappoint them. "There is someone," he stopped, took a deep wheezing breath, and let it out slowly, easing through the pain that came with moving his stomach muscles. "Someone else? Um, a dog."  
  
They looked at each other, and he realized he'd given himself away. He should have known something that he'd just asked about and he could feel his heart beating faster, fear rising in him, until the strong hand holding his squeezed a little, the big thumb rubbing over the back of his hand. "That's Ed and Ein, Spike. They're here too. It'll come back," Jet said, but even the man in the bed could hear that the first sentence was the truth, and the other two were just hopes.  
  
"What's my name?"  
  
"Spike," the woman said, reaching up to brush hair from his face. "You're Spike Spiegel. I'm Faye and he's Jet."  
  
"Jet." Spike let his eyes close. "Are we lovers?"  
  
The woman made to let go of his hand, but he weakly held onto her. The man coughed and cleared his throat. "Not yet, Spike, but we're friends first and I ain't gonna let anything happen to you. Her too. She's your friend first."  
  
"Yeah," Faye agreed. "We're family."  
  
"Okay," Spike said, a very slight smile slipping back to one corner of his mouth. "Tone deaf, right?"  
  
Jet laughed, his metal hand reaching up to touch the sensors to Spike's face, to gather his temperature, to comfort both of them some how. "She's still tone deaf, but she's got her good sides."  
  
"I am not tone deaf!"  
  
The man in the bed didn't hear her words though, as he'd slipped into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in years. 


	5. Getting Julia's Child

Spike 5.5  
  
He heard the door opening, but couldn't summon up enough energy to do more than open one eye. She stood there in the door way to the sterile medical room and he slowly got both eyes open, saw her as she was now, but also in some sepia toned memory. Now she was tall, hair pulled up and done elaborately with ebony hairpins, strands of black pearls. She wore a red satin jacket with black dragons woven into flight over her shoulders, down the curves of her sides. He remembered those boots too, glassy black leather, red dragons, and that memory sparked his drugged and shocked mind. The Red Dragon Syndicate, Vicious, Julia, this woman was Julia, but the Julia he remembered was softly, shoulders sloped a little, hair down in large blond curls, body gentle, nursing him back to health. It had been one of the first kindnesses he could remember. Confused, not entirely sure he was really still alive, he licked at the dryness making his lower lip ache and watched her.  
  
She stood there, watching him and he wondered what she was seeing. He remembered.. healing on a couch, so many times that the memories ran together, remembered feeling different than this, feeling as if the couch belonged to him, not like now where there was some need to justify his right to the space on this hard bed. A crack at the side of his mouth drew his tongue, and he licked at the coppery blood there, wishing he was on that lumpy couch instead. She took one step inside the door, the pearls and trinkets in her hair clinking softly, softening the sound of her boots on the tile floor. He remembered watching her fall, holding her in his arms. "You're alive." It was a simple statement, a fact with many meanings.  
  
"So are you. Surprised?" She asked and her voice was different now as well, the same, but colder, distant, pure Martian nobility with just a very slight hint of Mandarin. It was the voice of a princess.  
  
"Did you learn to speak peasant for me?" His own voice felt raspy, rough, very peasant like.  
  
"No." Now her voice was the one he remembered, rich and compassionate, the voice that had cradled him in his dreams so many times in the last years. "That was for Vicious. Spike," she started, then paused, the back of her fingers touching his cheek, wiping away the blood from his cracked lip. With her other hand, she lifted a plastic glass from the table and guided the straw around to his lips. "Here, drink."  
  
Her fingers smelled like jasmine, as if the scent of flowers just naturally clung to her fingers and he sucked the water, at first just to keep her fingers near him. Water spread cool though his mouth, down his throat, seeping into him and drawing energy up, until he pushed the straw out with his tongue and moved a little, very carefully. "What happened?"  
  
"It does not matter," she said, reaching for his hand, the same hand that Faye had held a couple hours earlier. "Your body is healing very quickly. Soon you must chose your path, Spike."  
  
Not as drugged as he had been, he still could not remember clearly. They'd been together on the roof, right after.. Annie.. and he closed his eyes, shifting a little, weight on his elbows as he tried to sit up, only to find her hand on his chest, pressing him back. "Lay still, Spike. Soon, you can get up."  
  
"How long," he asked, remembering a bit more, remembering the katana that had sliced though is middle. "Vicious?"  
  
"Vicious is dead. Truly dead. Your wounds will be completely healed within hours, all of them."  
  
Now that Spike didn't believe. He had a feeling that his heart would never heal, not when he understood the reason all the pieces didn't fit. "You? You were shot. You died."  
  
"I know," she said, her little fingernail under hooking the black silk frog closure at her throat, letting the red silk fall open, laying over the curve of breasts, around the pale bareness of her belly. "I died in your arms and I was together with you, where I will always be," she said, letting the red satin slip from her shoulders, her voice the voice he knew, not the voice of a Martian princess. "So then I am an angel, an angel untouched by time or place, who may think only of her heart and of the heart of her knight. Is that not possible?"  
  
Spike had worked his way up to his elbows, unwashed hair clinging to his face, the back of his neck, a paper hospital gown sticking under his back and ripping as he rolled a little, putting all his weight on the elbow near her as he reached out to her. "We will always be untouched by time or place, Julia. I love you."  
  
She meet his fingers, laying palm against palm and smiled sadly. "Don't. Don't talk of love. Love is always a lie and angels never lie." With her other hand, she pulled out one, then the other of the pins holding her hair and the golden blond fell like a waterfall of silk around her shoulders. She let her arm fall straight and the red satin slipped down, pooling around one elbow, held up by her other arm, her hand against Spike's. "Lay back on the bed, Spike. You must not strain yourself."  
  
"Julia?" He didn't understand, really, all thoughts of wounds or weakness lost in the rising passion he felt for his angel. She moved her hand from his palm to his shoulder and guided him back, then pulled the sheet and blanket away, tossing them to the floor behind her, then letting both arms fall and the red satin dropped with it. One of Spike's hands went to his face, pulling at the oxygen tubing still at his nose, but she stopped him from removing it, her fingers gently pulling his away. "Why?"  
  
"Because your body is running at a very high metabolic rate as it heals and the higher oxygen content will make that easier. I shouldn't be here now. I shouldn't do what I want to do." She smiled softly, just the lift of a corner of her mouth and he reached to touch her face, run his thumb along the line of smile that he'd seen in his dreams, all the dreams he could remember.  
  
"You are just as I remember. Julia, whatever you want, I want that too."  
  
"No," she said, not clarifying at all, but turning to kiss the pad of his thumb, to flick her thumb over it, then draw him into her mouth, tongue swirling suggestively around, over the edge of his nail, then along the fingerprint and he moaned low and male, primal. She closed her teeth on him then, holding him firmly, gently in her mouth as both hands reached behind her back and unzipped her pants, letting them drop to her ankles.  
  
His eyes snapped open as she trailed her nails lightly over the inside of his thigh, up under the paper gown to where his leg met body, then very lightly up hardness that lifted up to meet her fingers. Now she nearly snarled, moaning unwillingly, her eyes holding his as she reached to the collar of his gown and ripped. The muscles of his chest flexed as he arched up to meet her and she bent, devouring his lips, teeth to lips, leaving him no space for breath as she knew his mouth, memorized it, stole it from him, swallowed his cries and all the energy he could put into returning her kiss.  
  
She buried fingers in his tangled hair, holding onto him as if she could stop time, hold him forever, make the kiss last a life time. He reached back to her, palm against the side of her face, gentle just as she'd remembered, kind, too kind, too sweet, thumb rubbing her cheek, wiping away tears he wouldn't understand. She put one knee on the bed as she climbed onto the bed, straddling him easily, like a promise that would never know the bounds of reality.  
  
Finally she broke the kiss, sitting back on him lightly, boots pressing against his bare thighs, panting softly as she let her fingers trail down his chest, around his nipples, then quickly back to his face, over all the contours and lines of his face, the expression of his personality as he responded, lifted to reach her touch, as his moaning breaths melted around her fingers. And they said nothing to each other, no words, as she sat back, let her eyes flow over him and he rested his hands on her knees.  
  
The disinfectant from the surgery clung to his body, staining it with a reminder of mortality, of reality, and she let herself understand her options, her consequences as she traced gentle finger tips over the pink puckered scar across the whole front of his belly, just below his belly button, a centimeter wide and hiding technology advanced enough to be illegal and priceless. The scar was only a few hours old, less than a day, and she knew, knew even though she hadn't asked him yet, that it would be the only time she would see it. This scar was her scar, even though no real scars would ever mar her body, this, this was her scar. Suddenly, rushing, she leaned forward and caught his mouth again, his hands finding their way to her hips.  
  
Timeless love should have lasted for hours, days, echoed itself many times over, but his body had enough stamina to be alive and little more and her heart had the power to believe only for so long. It takes only a little will, a little time to being a child, however. In some moments, he wrapped both lanky arms around her as she lay down on him, her legs stretching out, so that he held her, enwrapped her, and for just such a short second, he was her knight, her protector and she was not the woman who would rule Mars, Venus, Earth, humanity. "Spike, would you stay here with me, no matter the cost?"  
  
"I would stay with you even if this were to be my last breath, Julia. I will give all that I have for you. Just tell me what I must do," he said, still struggling to regain his breath as he kissed her hair, her forehead.  
  
"Spike," she whispered. "Your friends are here. I can, perhaps, hide you, but just you. You will never set foot outside, never leave the quarters I give you. You will not be free, but to do that, your friends will," she paused and sought a way to tell him that she would kill his friends painlessly, that they would feel no fear, no pain. "I can have no witnesses of this. Only one person will know you live."  
  
"Jet," he said, holding her a little tighter, "And Faye. They.."  
  
"It would be easy, a small price. You and I, forever. Even normal aging is over come. You will be safe, wealthy, protected."  
  
He shifted a little, frowning. "But a prisoner and my friends will die? Is that what you're offering me, Julia? Who are you?"  
  
She sat up then, face pale, and caught up the sheet from behind her, drawing it around her body. "I told you that it doesn't matter. You may leave with them, but the price of that is your memories, every last one of them. You will have to relearn everything more advanced than lifting a fork to your mouth. Your life or theirs, Spike. Stay with me."  
  
Pulling away more, one arm across his belly protectively, he drew his knees up, not caring really that he was naked, that his own seed was sticky against his chest. "I don't know who you are! Julia! Julia!" He said her name as if he could invoke the spirit of the woman he'd known and dreamed about. "Julia, these are my friends and I love them."  
  
"Love," she spat, pure princess accent now, as stepped off the bed and reached for her pants. "Love. Love is like recycled air. Everyone gets a little. I have what I wish from you then. Do you wish to be mine, or will you go with them?" She turned to the computer on the table by his bed, called up the camera that showed the inside of their room, hoping she sounded suitably harsh, cold, as untouchable by feelings as she needed to be. "They will suffer for taking care of you. Life without power is always full of suffering. Let them sleep while you stay with me. Do not make them suffer."  
  
Spike looked where she pointed and there, Jet kissed Faye, and he felt like his heart had suddenly more daggers in it, like his heart knew new ways to break. Faye and Jet? Jet, he let the man's name rock over his feelings, and he wanted the man happy, but there was a flare of jealousy as well. Hurt makes for the desire for revenge and he tried not to, tried to keep his eyes from letting tears fall, but they came anyway, burning like some Venus allergy to living, racing down his cheeks, bleeding his soul away. They didn't need him as he was, if he had no memories he'd be less suffering for them than if he were to be near and feeling this.. this thing he couldn't explain. "I would rather start over free than be the lap mutt of a lying princess," he hissed, hoping it hurt, hoping it sent daggers back.  
  
"Fool," she said, poison ice. She tapped the screen connecting to a different source. "Clear the Bebop for launch. Make sure they are all on it. I will bring Patient Alpha to the docking bay myself."  
  
"Acknowledge, Mistress," returned a voice that Spike didn't know.  
  
And he found himself shivering, naked and covered in goosebumps, arms across his chest. "Do I get a shower and a cigarette?"  
  
"No." She reached into the table's drawer and with drew a pair of goggles, smaller than Ed's, set up with eight separate data input spikes curving inwards from the outer edges. "Well, leave me then. Put these on, Spike. You have to do it willingly or it will destroy your mind completely. Put them on, press the button on the side and then there's no turning back. You don't have to, really. I will forgive you."  
  
He reached out, fingers shaking, throat tight. "Let them go, let them leave, safe. And don't lie to me!"  
  
"I will always lie to you, Spike, after this. But I will not lie over this decision. They will die. I can't have them as witnesses as long as you retain your memories. You are my rival. It is you that I should kill, but I can not bring myself to do it." She reached out to brush away tears, but he pulled back, wiping the back of his hand over his face, and feeling like a child.  
  
Without another word, he put on the computer goggles, switched them on, saw a bright light, bright enough that for just a fraction of a breath he thought his eyes would be burned out and then. nothing. 


	6. lost wedding

Evil Angel 6/6 By Nix  
  
Disclaimers. I don't own Cowboy Bebop and probably can't write it canon for beans.. so do see the real thing.  
  
Warnings. Evil Julia, Spike in white. biggest warning.. I was just having fun, writing what appealed to me. You want really good Cowboy Bebop fic.. look up Agent Orange. she's the best.  
  
But anyway, I'd still like to know if you enjoy this fic of mine.  
  
Evil Angel 6/6  
  
Faye held her favorite pillow to her chest with both arms. She'd been on her way to Spike's room, but what Jet was working on in the lounge got her attention. The older man looked positivly domestic, apron on, a plate of beef and green peppers under glass on the table behind him and there he was, making up a bed for Spike on the couch. Faye's eyes narrowed and she shifted her hold on her pillow. "Uh, what are you doing?"  
  
He fluffed the pillow he had already positioned at least three times since she'd been watching and ignored her.  
  
"I thought," she said, sounding a little less sure of herself now, because well, her motives might not have been as hidden to herself as she might have wanted, "I thought that he might like to sleep in his own bed, you know? Quieter in there."  
  
"Have you ever slept in his bed? Uncomfortable as hell." Jet stood up, crossed his arms, then shifted his stance to scratch behind his head, hoping he was doing a good job of implying things that hadn't actually happened. "I really ought to buy him a new one, a wider one." He followed that with a smile, the kind of half guilty, but victorious smile that canary-eating-cats came up with easily.  
  
Faye's nose twitched. This little war had started with their kiss, a kiss that she and her body had responded to like someone had yelled free money in a believable voice. The war over Spike's heart and sexual attention worked better than anything else to distract them both from the danger they were in and from the danger of admitting they actually liked each other. "You didn't sleep in Spike's bed. It's not sturdy enough to hold your weight." She smirked then and if she could have grown horns, she would have.  
  
Jet tapped his foot, energy building up between them, zipping back and forth like the opening of a gate with no real way to be sure what would come out the side. "And what do you think you're doing? Taking your bedding in there? The way you dress, if he ain't bit yet, he ain't likely to." Jet smiled then as the horns Faye didn't have turned into out right flames. This fight felt like more familiar ground, felt much more normal than sharing his brandy or sharing kisses.  
  
"You fucking ass," she spat, all the way past her tolerances, buttons pressed so deep she thought her soul could bleed, and then she launched at him, her favorite pillow a feather katana aimed at his head. The force caught him off guard and he went over to the side, hitting the couch, the second smack sent him over the back and he caught up the pillow he'd left out for Spike on his way. "What the hell do you mean the way I dress?"  
  
Ed looked up from the corner where she'd set up her new computer. "Ed is BUSY," she yelled, obviously expecting that to have some kind of impact. "She is doing something IMPORTANT! Something important to Spike-person!"  
  
Jet swung the pillow anyway, not pulling the impact at all and even though it was only foam, Faye fell back, sitting on the suddenly broken plastic covering over Spike's food, then rolling back as Jet stepped over the couch and whacked her again. "I mean! Don't," Whack, "Think," duck, "that anything," whack, whack, "has changed."  
  
Faye was on her knees, favorite pillow torn now and bleeding white feathers. Her face still scrunched up with outrage, she doubled up her fists, and prepared to ram him. "Oh yeah?" She snarled and charged, not even noticing that Jet had stopped dead in his tracks. Ein barked. Ed lifted her goggles up to the top of her head and just sat there watching. Faye hit Jet, didn't phase him at all, and just slid down him and landed on her butt. That was when she saw him, the him that she and Jet were fighting over.  
  
Spike stood in the door way, at the top of the stairs, hair slightly damp, but washed and fingered straight. He just stood there, eyes watching them with a kind of confused amusement. He wore a wedding suit, white silk with a high collar, silver satin frogs closing it at the collar and down his chest, white on white cranes embroidered throughout it, down the long sleeves. White satin pants covered lean legs, flowing around him as he fidgeted slightly, one foot bouncing.  
  
Faye got to her knees, and Jet reached down and hauled her to her feet with a hand under elbow.  
  
Ed stood too and Ein barked again.  
  
Wedding Spike ran a hand through damp green hair and looked like they were putting him on the spot. "Look, I didn't mean to interrupt or anything, but I was told that my family was waiting for me."  
  
"Spike," Faye asked, confused because his voice sound like him, he looked like him, but the inflection was wrong, the accent sounded perfect like some Martian TV announcer. And then there was the suit, something just sooo not Spike. "You get married and not invite us?"  
  
Ed ran forward, grabbed Spike's hand like she would read his palm, then looked up into his eyes, searching with all genius half insane intensity. "Spike person remembers Edward?"  
  
"Of course he does!" Faye said, indignant. He wouldn't forget Edward or Jet, or her! How could he?'  
  
Spike caught hold of the railing with his other hand, not pulling free of Ed, acting so very un-Spike-like and not quite as strong as he would have liked, what with being on a ship with people who didn't seem to be quite normal. "I'm sure he does," Spike hedged, pretty sure that might not be the right thing to say, but it might cover okay.  
  
"Spike," Jet spoke for the first time, stepping passed Faye as she sank down to the couch. "You shouldn't be walking around yet."  
  
It took Jet only a few steps to reach where Spike was now holding onto the railing with all his strength. He went up two steps, slid an arm around Spike to help him walk to the couch, but instead Spike's knees buckled and Jet found himself with an arm full of white silk wrapped Spike. "I don't feel very good," Spike admitted and didn't resist when Jet bent just a little and scooped the taller man into his arms.  
  
Ed sank down to the stairs and wailed, "Edward has FAILED! Edward is soo sorry! Edward has lost the mind of the Spike person!"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about," Faye demanded, getting up from Spike's couch and snarling over the mess she'd made when she sat down. Quickly she brushed it off as well as she could, then laid the blanket down over it, grabbed both pillows and set them there under Spike's head as Jet laid him down. Faye knelt down by where Spike's head was and looked into his eyes, eyes that stared back at her without any recognition and Faye started to cry.  
  
It wasn't like the drugged non-recognition of earlier.. This was real. Spike really didn't know her. "Spike, you shit! What happened to you? You were going to be okay, just a few hours ago! Remember, I'm tone deaf! You remembered me!"  
  
Jet was on his knees too, all business, opening the shirt to see the wound they'd watched get closed not even a day before. Just a puckered scar, pink and ugly remained. "We have to get the hell out of here," he said, fearing a group with technology like that more than he wanted to know what they'd done to his partner. Leaving Spike with his shirt open, Faye combing his hair with her fingers, Jet rose and went to start the launch sequence.  
  
Faye wanted to know though and she wanted to know now! Wanted to fix it. "Edward! What did you fail? What happened? Spike, don't you go to sleep! Spike Spiegel, you know who I am, don't you? You didn't forget me, did you?"  
  
The man on the couch felt sad. He could hear the little girl sobbing and he felt the dog jump up on the end of the couch by his feet, and worse, he felt the thing start licking his leg, right above the white sock that had pooled around his ankle. He heard the desperation in the woman next to him, could even smell the fear on her, but he didn't understand. He really didn't know these people. Disgusted, he tried to move to close his shirt.  
  
Not knowing them didn't explain why he felt sad though, why he couldn't stop his hand from reaching out to the woman's cheek, rubbing a thumb over her cheek, wiping away tears. She had the softest hair, fine and silky, and he wished he knew why she was crying for him. "Hey," he said, trying to smile, trying to joke, "I didn't kill anyone, did I?"  
  
"Oh Spike," she wailed and he found arms wrapped around him, holding him tight, twisting him just a bit and making his very sore midsection demand some instinctive protection.  
  
"Owwww," he howled and she didn't even bother to let go, just held him tighter, crying more, and he considered hitting her a couple times. "I said owww! Woman! You're hurting me!"  
  
"Good," she snarked, but held him more gently, "I was so damn scared for you! Making like you didn't even know us! Spike! How could you?"  
  
"Uh," he said, completely confused, but glad as hell that she wasn't twisting him around now. "I guess this means we are family, uh?"  
  
Faye drew back, wiped her face, and studied him. "Spike, what's my name?"  
  
He smirked, trying to buy some time as he fished around for some name that would fit her. She was pretty, looked tough, and he could summon up some emotion about her, tenderness, irritation, worry, trust, and that made him realize that he did know her, he just didn't...know her. "Look, I think I'm kind of fucked right now. I don't remember. I feel like I should know you, like I care a lot about you, but I don't remember ever having seen you before, ever. I can't tell you what I look like. So don't take it personal, 'kay?"  
  
Not take it personal? Faye sat back against the table, sniffed the food and even though she'd sat on it, she picked the main parts of the plastic cover off it and grabbed up the chopsticks. "Want some? I sat on it."  
  
One arm laying across his belly. "That's okay, you go ahead." He really wasn't sure his insides were in complete working order even. It was like someone had played some nasty joke on him, ripped him apart, and the feeling of being betrayed deeper than breath could reach. He wasn't hungry.  
  
The Bebop lifted up out of the water it had been docked on, jerking a little. Faye looked over to Edward, who still hadn't answered, who was laying flat out on the stairs, looking utterly defeated. Spike looked pretty defeated too, laying there in what was obviously wedding clothes, pink scar showing. He looked like someone had ripped his soul out and suddenly Faye felt really bad about eating food Jet had made for Spike. She didn't really have anything more to say though and couldn't waste food, so she stuck the bit of beef into her mouth.  
  
As the Bebop pulled up away from Mars, gaining speed and altitude, the atmosphere in the Bebop was one of cautious not fatalism. Spike wasn't sure what his name was, or if the pain in his gut and head were getting worse or better. Edward was not at all sure what she'd done wrong! The technology was all new to her and she had thought for sure she'd messed up what that blond demon's computer had been trying to do. She and Mpu could do anything! And this had been important.  
  
Jet paid close attention to flying his ship, feeling more uncomfortable than he thought he ever had. Instead of two roommates and half disposable partners, he had a woman that he'd kissed, a guy that he wanted to kiss and had just sold his ass to the Red Dragons to save. The image of Spike standing there in wedding dress did things to him that he wasn't in any way ready to deal with! He did not have half a hardon for his vulnerable and barely back from the dead friend. Yeah.  
  
From her private suite, Julia watched the ship carrying Spike away lift off, leave a curtain of Martian ocean and lift up into the sky heading for parts unknown.  
  
"He is still a rival," said Visnon, voice dripping in courteous perfection. The oldest son of the Martian Governor stepped into her room, carrying a pot of tea and two emerald carved tea cups. "Follow through. Blow the ship. Make it sparkle like so much fire works in celebration of your acceptance as high dragon."  
  
"He is harmless," she said, accepting a cup, letting him pour her tea. "He wouldn't even regain speech for months. He'll probably starve to death because he wouldn't understand what it feels like to be hungry. He is as good as dead. Perhaps those idiot friends of his will kill him accidentally. He's not a rival anymore, Visnon."  
  
"Why do I doubt you?" he asked leaning back in his chair. "You went to all that trouble to save him for just an afternoon? You're not untouchable, you know? This union isn't finalized you now? And even if it was, if you become a liability, they'll kill you."  
  
Julia gave him her most gentle smile, what she called secretly her smile for Spike. "Do not worry, Visnon," she laid a hand on her belly, fingers out, and smiled, more genuine, completely predatory. "Sometimes once is all it takes."  
  
"Oh," Visnon made a face, complete distaste. "What in known worlds would make his genes worthy of being passed on?"  
  
"He was Mao's chosen heir, idiot. Mao's will still carries a great deal of weight. He has enacted vengeance for the elders who are gone, as well as for Mao. What made him my rival makes his child an exquisite asset."  
  
Visnon nearly dropped his tea cup. "You planned this all along? You planned to be regent in the name of Spike Spiegel's child?"  
  
"It does seem more palatable, and much more secure than some plans. He did want children," she said, smiling as the Bebop's signal left Martian orbit, headed out towards the asteroid belt, she hoped, carrying the father of her child in all his ridiculous virtuous heroic glory. "You didn't think I was going to have your children, did you?"  
  
She held out her hand to him, and he took it, letting her fingers interlace with his, letting her teasing tone make him smile. "I thought we ought to get married first. I don't mind though, you know, you carrying his child first. Immaculate conception and all, amazing what technology can do. You'll be the idealized widow of the Red Dragon's hero of retribution. You're a damn genius."  
  
One hand on her belly, as if she were maybe covering her baby's eyes, she squeezed Visnon's hand, sinking the jewel of her 'wedding' ring into his flesh. He yelped and she elegantly pulled back her hand. "And it will not hurt me at all that you, my not so brilliant rival, died trying to avenge Vicious' death at my husband's hands. How tragic for your family that your father will be revealed as a traitor."  
  
She stood then, stepped away from the computer screen and the very surprised and very dying man. "I'd rather braid my blood with a brilliant peasant than the blood of an inbreed parrot."  
  
"Julia!" he called to her, but she was walking away. "You are evil! You're evil, Julia. A fucking blackwidow angel!"  
  
She wasn't a black widow though, not completely. Maybe Spike would live. Maybe she'd see him again. She could always change her mind and bring him back when her power was consolidated.  
  
"How could you do this?" he demanded and she heard the tea set smash as he fell. "I'm dying. You killed me. How could you?"  
  
She laughed, hand smoothing through the air, imagining what it would be like as her belly swelled with Spike's child. "You know the saying, that it is better to rule in Hell." 


End file.
